I’m here to kill.

However, my body has different ideas and won’t let me pull away from Layton. If anything, I hold on tighter, pretending he’s the guy I used to play with in the sandbox; the guy who kept an eye on me at parties, making sure I didn’t get too wasted and do something stupid; the guy who took the fall for me a thousand times. God dammit, I need this. I need just one more moment of calmness before my whole entire world is turned upside down.

I know things will never be the same after I go through with it. I’ve known a few people who have committed hits for various different reasons, and they were never the same afterwards. Even if it’s for a good reason and the person they kill is bad, it changes them forever. Darkens their soul. Hollows them out. They carry pain on their shoulders forever. Some don’t even survive, ending their own lives later on. I know this from growing up in the kind of environment I have.

And that’s what keeps me moving forward with Layton as he pushes through the bathroom door, startling a group of women putting lipstick and mascara on in front of the mirror. A couple of them yell at him to get out and the rest simply stare in awe. I’m sure they are wishing they were going into the stall to get fucked by him.

Layton disregards them completely as he strides toward the end stall, towing me along with him. He shoves the door open and tugs me in before letting my hand go then locking us in. By the time he turns around and faces me, I’m panting with need, my chest heaving ravenously.

I want. I want. I need. I need. I’m helpless with desire.

“Pull your pants down,” I say to Layton, relaxing back against the wall and biting my lip until it bleeds.

He shakes his head, his lips quirking with genuine amusement. “You’ve gotten bossier since the last time we hooked up.”

I tell my body to be patient, yet it’s difficult now that we’ve gotten this far, and I start running my hand along my body. “A lot has changed over the last four years.”

His elation sinks. “Yeah, it has…” He tracks my hand wandering across my breast, down to my stomach, then up to my other breast. Sucking in a slow breath, he unexpectedly hesitates. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

I’m more insulted than hurt. “Why the fuck not?”

“Because…” he struggles for words, his gaze fixed on me, searching my eyes. “Because you’re stressed. Drunk. Under a lot of pressure. A lot of different things. And I don’t think under normal circumstances you’d even be touching me.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t normal circumstances, is it?” Not giving him time to react, I unzip the zipper going down the side of my dress and let it fall to my ankles. Then I carefully step out of the dress and stand there in my lacey black bra and panties, gun strapped to my thigh. “Now it’s your turn.”

He deliberately scrolls his eyes over my body, taking his sweet time, his breathing quickening the longer his gaze drinks me in. “God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he mumbles with his eyes fastened on me, hunger taking over the darkness in his eyes.

He slowly reaches for the button of his pants and undoes it, but his fingers linger so long on his zipper that impatience gets the best of me. I stumble across the small amount of space between us and jerk them down myself along with his boxers then bite down on my lip even harder as I drop to my knees.

“Shit, Lola.” He groans as I take him deep in my mouth without warning. His head bangs against the door as he slumps back, continuing to make throaty noises and low moans as I move my mouth up and down along his swollen cock.

I can hear whispering on the other side of the door, something about me being a whore, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything, and that’s sort of the point of all of this. Sex can be numbing. Invigorating. Distracting. So much so that I can barely feel the gun on my leg anymore. The fear of what I’m about to do, the pain of knowing what’s been done to my father, it’s all gone. For a moment, I’m simply Lolita, and I’m okay with it.

“God… Lolita,” Layton moans out my name as he grabs a handful of my hair, causing the pins holding it up to fall out. My hair falls to my shoulders as he gently tugs on the strands.

I move my mouth up and down on him a few more times, letting my eyes close. I’m getting lost in another place, drifting, drifting, drifting, but then he takes it away as he gently pulls on my hair, guiding my mouth away.

“What are you doing?” I protest as his fingers enfold my arms, and with one swift tug, he lifts me to my feet.

Then his fingers leave my arms and drift downward, under the hem of my panties. He jerks them down my legs and I eagerly help him out by stepping out of them and kicking them off to the side. Seconds later, his fingers are in me, feeling me thoroughly, each movement causing me to gasp and stab my nails into his shoulders, scratching his flesh.

I’ve never been so aggressive, but it’s like all the emotions are flooding out of me and clawing their way out. I’m losing it, on the verge of combusting, losing sight of what’s around me. My hands take on a life of their own. I rip his shirt over his head then feel his lean muscles, trace the dark lines of the tattoos on his ribs and arms before I collapse back against the wall.

“God, this is exactly what I needed tonight,” I moan, my fingers finding his cock again. I grasp it in my hand as my eyelids drift shut once more. We keep feeling each other; panting, sweaty, growing needier and needier until finally we can’t take it anymore.

When he slips his fingers out of me, I open my eyes to find him taking a condom out of his pocket. I’m bursting with need as he tears it open, and then I impatiently grab it from his hand and put it on him slowly, making his eyes roll into the back of his head, high on the sensation of my touch. A faint smile touches my lips as I pull my hand away. His eyes come back into focus and he grabs my thighs before forcefully picking me up, slamming me against the wall as he backs us up. Then, with one hard thrust, he sinks deep inside me. My back arches and my legs hitch tightly around his waist.

“Oh, God,” I gasp, starting to let my head fall back. Before I can protest, his lips come down hard on mine and he slips his tongue inside my mouth, stealing my second kiss. Just like that. Without permission. Without warning.

For the briefest second—one based on confusion and Bacardi—I tangle my tongue with his, loving the taste of him, loving the kiss. But then my commonsense kicks in, and I pull my tongue out and bite down on his bottom lip hard.

“No kissing,” I growl in a low tone, tracing my fingers up his chest as he pauses inside me, still holding onto me.

His eyes are glossed over and he looks completely out of it. “Fine… if that’s what you want.” He licks his wounded lip as he rocks into me again.

“Those are the rules,” I groan, rolling my hips forward. He sucks in a sharp breath then reciprocates by rocking his hips forward, sliding inside me almost painfully slow. My nails pierce his skin again as I veer toward the edge of losing it, desperate to hold on, knowing once I fall, it will be back to reality.

He continues the slow movements again and again, grasping onto my thighs, fingertips delving into my skin so roughly I’m sure I’m going to have bruises. I clutch onto his shoulders as I move my hips in sync with his. The lights, music, voices—everything—fades around us. My body climbs higher and higher away from reality.

I forget where I am. Who I am. I forget about everything as he drives my mind and body further away from reality until I completely come apart, crying out his name as my head falls back. He gives one last thrust inside me then joins me, struggling to hold onto me as he comes.

After everything settles, he rests his face in the crook of my neck and starts placing light kisses on my damp skin. I don’t even bother stopping him, too tired and content to speak. This was good, I want to say. Much better than the first time. Yet, by the time I work up the energy to say it, his phone starts ringing from inside the pocket of his pants.